Death Bed
by Flash Foreward
Summary: It takes a lot to create trust, but it takes only a single mistake to break it down. This story explores DavidColby dynamic during Trust Metric using the poem The Death Bed by Siegfried Sassoon. DavidColby implied slash, don't read if you don't like.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own "Numb3rs" or "The Death Bed"**  
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**A/N: **After Alan quoted "The Death Bed" in "The Janus List" I felt like someone should write a fic using it. I started this awhile before I finished it, and when I went back to finish it I realized I'd forgotten where I'd meant to be going, but noticed that I had set it up perfectly to explore some of the stuff in Trust Metric. Slash implied, enjoy.**  
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**Death Bed**

David leans his forehead against the window, staring down at the parking lot outside his apartment. A shiver runs through his body. He blames the air-conditioned chill that has come to permeate the glass, the true reason has been shoved to the back of his mind, buried as far as it is possible.

His eyes threaten to fall closed, fatigue from the day's work finally catching up to him, but he refuses to let them. He forces himself to stare at the cars that pass below for a few more minutes before leaving his vantage point and sitting on his couch. He turns the television on, turning up the volume as far as it can go, to some cheesy movie about a place called "Toon Town."

It isn't enough. His eyes fall closed and he slumps to the side, falling into fitful dreams.

_Light many lamps and gather round his bed._

Memories play slowly across his mind as he stares through the cold bars of his prison cell. He watches the other inmates as they climb into their bunks, makeshift knives concealed in their sleeves that they slide discreetly under their pillows. He hears Dwayne's snores from above him and he glances up at the underside of the other man's bunk.

He will not curse him. As much as he wants to, he knows that the blame falls on him as well as on Dwayne; so, no, he will not curse him. Instead, he curses himself. As he lies back onto his bed, staring at the bunk above him, forcing his eyes to remain open, he curses his own stupidity and weakness.

Silent tears drip from his eyes, and as he goes to blink them away his eyes remain closed. His unwanted dreams chase him through the night,

_Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live._

He hears them long before he realizes they're real. They're sitting beside him, whispering much too loudly. He opens his eyes and registers the hospital room, the beeping of monitors and the chatter of nurses echoing loudly in his ears. He turns his head to find his colleagues watching him, waiting for him to wake up. Megan's the only one really paying attention, and she smiles at him and gets everyone else's attention.

"What happened?" he asks..

_  
Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet._

"You did your job," Megan says, patting his arm. The others have noticed that he is awake, and they turn their faces to him. Don and Liz have half smiles tugging at their lips, but Charlie, Larry, and Alan are all grinning. As he takes in their faces his eyes fall on the windows behind them, and the one man who is standing behind them.

David's face is grim, and Colby feels his heart sink as his memory catches up with his consciousness. He tries to catch David's eye, but the other man his looking somewhere behind Colby's head. Colby blinks and forces his attention back to the people surrounding him.

_He's young; he hated War; how should he die  
When cruel old campaigners win safe through?_

He gives up watching. He can't stand gazing through the window as the team treats Colby as if nothing has happened. He doesn't leave, though. He finds his way to the waiting room and sits in one of the uncomfortable chairs lining the wall. He keeps his eyes on the door, watching as nurses pass it by and waiting for someone to leave.

He wants to know how Colby's doing, but he does not want to go in. His curiosity is matched perfectly by his animosity.

_But death replied: 'I choose him.' So he went,  
And there was silence in the summer night;_

Alan is the first one out, and when he spots the older man David quickly feigns interest in one of the magazines decorating the table in front of him. Some story about some celebrity and their drug addiction has made the cover, and he flips through as though searching for something in particular and watches out of the corner of his eye as Alan sits next to him.

He knows that Alan doesn't buy it, but the other man doesn't pry or call him on it; he lets David decide when to put the magazine down. And when he finally returns it to the table, Alan waits for him to break the silence.

"How can they act like nothing happened?" he queries. "How has nothing changed for them?"

"It has," Alan says shortly. "But not to the same extent as it has for you, if I'm right?" Alan's eyes meet David's and David gives a slow nod, his eyes falling to the ground. Alan's hand on his shoulder lifts his gaze back to the other man's.

"It'll take sometime," Alan says, "but he's still the same man. You just have to start again. Get to know him again."

"It's not that easy."

"I never said it would be easy," Alan counters. "In fact, it's going to be one of the hardest things. But look on the brightside."

"That is?"

"He's still alive," Alan says, "so you get your second chance."

With that, the older man stands and returns to Colby's room. He leaves David to think about it all, and Colby notices the sly smile adorning Alan's face as he reclaims his seat near the bed.

_  
Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep.  
Then, far away, the thudding of the guns._

It's late when David finally makes his way to Colby's room. Nurses and Doctors have passed him by, even though visiting hours are over. His solemnity has kept them at bay, and his constant vigilance over Colby's door has piqued their curiosity. Finally, he stands from his chair and makes his way to the room. He stands in front of the door for a dragging minute and watches the other man's chest rise up and down with the rapid breathing of haunted sleep, and he wonders what plagues Colby's dreams.

And as Colby's head twitches to the side and his fingers grip at his blanket, David knows.

His anger and bitterness are forgotten as he quickly makes his way to Colby's bed and wraps his fingers around the man's hand. Colby's fingers twitch against David's skin, tense, and then relax.


End file.
